I Will Never Leave You
by WyldColt45
Summary: Before they died, Radames and Aida promised each other that they would find each other, no matter what. But what happens if, when they do, Radames is in love with... some one else? Rent/Aida crossover ::Gasp:: could it be? An original idea? NOOO!
1. If I Never

Author's Note: Yes, I stole the Rent characters from Jonathan Larson, but it's okay, cause he stole them from Puccini. I stole the Aida characters from Disney, who stole them from Verdi... Sensing a trend here? I thought that this would be fun... (Note, I've not actually SEEN Aida, but I know what happens, and I've read the libretto of both musical AND opera, so I figure I'm okay... besides, I'm not quoting anything. Well... For the most part, anyway.)  
  
  
  
Prologue: If I Never...  
  
The Darkness stretched around him, tangible and malevolent. He could almost hear the hooded specter of Death creeping ever closer, as he inched towards asphyxiation. The pounding of his heart was deafening, in the empty space that would become his executor, and his tomb. But it wasn't empty. In the corner, curled silently, there was another. He panicked, realizing too late what had happened. She wasn't supposed to be here! She had escaped! He pounded against the rock, struggling to be heard, but he knew, even as he screamed, that he there was no rescue behind that stone portal. That world was lost to him now. He crumpled against the wall, his strength giving way to despair, but she was at his side, and his arms locked around her, pulling her to his lips. Already, he could feel her heart slowing, as the lack of air began to take its toll on her already frail system. How long had she waited for him, here, in the blackness of this foul tomb? How long since she had tasted food, or quenched her thirst?  
  
But even as he cursed himself for allowing this to come to pass, he was secretly, and selfishly relieved that she was by his side. The prospect of facing an early demise wasn't quite as foreboding, with her here. He pushed the selfishness aside, and shook his head. Lonely or no, she should not have been subjected to this. This was HIS fate. This was HIS destiny. Not hers.  
  
And yet, despite his desperate entreating, the gods had turned a deaf ear to him, and she remained by his side, slowly sinking deeper into that endless sleep that claims all men in time. *I almost wish I had never met her* He thought, desperately. *But no. If I never loved her, I would not have died, true. But neither would I have truly lived.*  
  
He gazed down at her, where, in the darkness, he knew she would be. In spite of the void, he could just imagine that he could make out the slope of her nose, the sharp awareness of her eyes, and the beauty of her skin, skin as black as the darkness which even now threatened to crush his spirits. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and his fingers came away wet. He wished there was something he could say, something he could do. But she had made the sacrifice on her own. Rather than live without him, she had chosen to stay by his side into eternity. And then, he had it. It had seemed so simple, so trite when he had said it to her before, but now, the words that sprang to his lips.  
  
"There'd be no ties of time and space to bind us..." He paused, wondering if she was still conscious enough to hear, but soon, he heard her voice, weak and trembling.  
  
"And no horizon we could not pursue..." Even in the darkness, he could tell that she was smiling. Together, they continued.  
  
"We'd leave the world's misfortunes far behind us, and I would put my faith and trust... in you." A sigh escaped her lips, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Radames kissed her lips for the last time, and slid back, allowing himself to succumb to the darkness.  
  
**********  
  
Roger woke in a cold sweat, with a shout on his lips. Realizing where he was, he let it die before uttering a sound. Mark would kill him, or at least stare groggily, anyway, if Roger woke him up. Then there would be questions, and prodding. Mark was a little over protective. So much so, that Roger often found himself wondering if, despite all the posturing about Maureen, his thin roommate might be gay.  
  
Shaking the thought away, he swung his legs off the end of the bed, and, not bothering to pull a shirt over his sweating torso, shambled barefoot into the kitchen, looking for something that might help lull him back to sleep. He had just liberated the last bowl of Cap'n Crunch from its box, when he heard footsteps behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he grunted. "Bad dream." Mark shrugged, even knowing that Roger couldn't see him. "We need more cereal."  
  
"Sure," Mark grinned. "I'll just pick some up when I get paid for the Hollywood blockbuster I filmed." Without thinking, Roger turned to his best friend and grinned back. But a thought occurred to him. Mark was too alert to have just woken up.  
  
"How long have you been awake?" In spite of himself, Roger found himself getting worried. No matter what anyone thought, Roger DID care for the fragile filmmaker. They had been through too much with each other for him not to care.  
  
Mark shrugged. "An hour or so. You were shouting." He smiled, apologetically. His hand twitched, and if Roger hadn't been so unnerved by his dream, he would have smiled. Mark was always itching to film things, even when he didn't have his camera.  
  
"It was nothing. Really." Roger turned back to his bowl of cereal, and began to spoon it into his mouth. "And the milk went bad." He didn't stop eating, though.  
  
"C'mon, Roge." Mark, looking frail and vulnerable in the dim light that filtered in through windows that desperately needed cleaning, tried to reach out and touch Roger, to comfort him. Roger shied away, but the sight of Mark's injured eyes, eyes in which it seemed sometimes that you could look and never find the bottom, caused the emotional dam that Roger had begun to build again since the dreams had started to burst. For the first time since he had found April lying in a pool of her own blood, Roger began to cry.  
  
  
  
A/N: Yes, I know that in the musical, they were sentenced together... but I like the way THIS scenario worked better. It made it seem more... beautiful that they were together at the end. 


	2. Reunions and Reprises

Author's note: Still don't own anyone. But you knew that. And if you didn't, then this story probably wouldn't have made any sense to you, since you lack basic literacy skills. Also, as far as I know, the layout of the museum depicted in this story is completely imaginary, having never been to any museum in NY myself. In fact, I don't know if such a place exists at all. And finally, I haven't decided if I'm gonna make this M/R... or not. Input would be appreciated.  
  
Chapter 1: Reunions and Reprises  
  
The sunlight filtering through the window looked rather bland to Roger. Perhaps it was because he was bored stiff. He still wasn't quite sure why he had agreed to come, since he and museums had traditionally never gotten along, but it was too late. He was there for the long haul, watching with disgusted disinterest as Mark wended his way among the cluttered display of dusty pots and rusty weapons. As long as Mark was enjoying himself, Roger reasoned, the day wasn't a TOTAL waste, right?  
  
"Roge! Come look at this!" Mark squeaked excitedly. Roger sighed. No doubt another boring explanation of the War of 1812, or a display of antique muskets or something. As he made his way over to his former roommate, he wondered, not for the first time, why they couldn't have gone to see a movie instead. After all, it wasn't every day they could afford to do anything at all, let alone make an event of it. But Mark had gotten some flow from his flick, and so here they were, like real people.  
  
"...nd they were buried alive!" Mark was talking, but Roger, lost in his own thoughts, only caught the tail end. "Isn't that romantic?" He turned his thin face back to Roger, who frowned.  
  
"Yeah. Romantic." He looked at the plaque that stood in front of several artifacts that looked vaguely Egyptian, not that it made a difference to him. It detailed the story, sort of a Middle East Romeo and Juliet. For some reason, reading it made Roger feel empty. Like something had been missing, but he'd been to preoccupied to notice. Which was ridiculous. After all, he had Mimi, right? Sure, he got jealous every now and then, but ever since last Christmas when she had... No, Roger scolded himself. Don't think about that. Mimi was fine. Everything was FINE, dammit. He was happy. THEY were happy. And maybe, he'd found his happily ever after.  
  
Only, happily ever after doesn't last forever, right? Wasn't that how the saying went? Eventually something has to happen. Something breaks, someone dies...Mimi dies... Roger dies... "NO!" Roger froze. He hadn't meant to shout, but that thought, the one that burned in his head, a cancerous feeling that had taken hold of him since last Christmas... It frightened him. And when he died... Who would take care of Mark? Mark! Damn! Roger looked up to see Mark looking at him oddly.  
  
"Okay. So we won't go to the Life Cafe. I didn't know you hated it so much." He was fighting back tears, Roger saw.  
  
"Hey... I didn't mean..." Roger stumbled. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and sorry had never come easy. Rock Stars don't apologize, after all. "I was thinking..." Yeah. Tell him you weren't listening. Great. "I mean... The Life Cafe sounds fine, Mark. Really." *Nice save, Davis,* Roger thought glumly, but Mark seemed satisfied, at least for the moment. He smiled. And Roger smiled back, fighting back the squirrelly churning in his stomach that Mark's smiles always seemed to elicit lately.  
  
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Roger could have sworn he felt something inside him snap, like a flooded dam that had finally burst. Somewhere, he could feel the knowledge of what had happened nestle itself into a dark corner of his mind, but even as he became aware of it, he shied away. Ignore it, and it will go away, after all. *Can't you go five minutes without complicating your own life?* Roger scolded himself. The moment stretched on, and Roger shifted on his feet. "I could really go for that food about now, actually," he muttered. Mark nodded, and neither thought it necessary to point out that it was only 10:45. Far too early for lunch, and just a little too late for breakfast.  
  
"I'll meet you downstairs. I just want to get a shot of this for my next film." Roger nodded, but Mark's attention had already been fully invested in fiddling with the old camera that never seemed to be more than an arm's length away. Shrugging into the new coat they had purchased earlier that morning from a hawker out on the street, Roger began to pick his way down the crowded corridors toward the exit. He had almost reached the door leading to the main lobby of the museum, when he collided with a girl carrying a large stack of papers, sending streams of white flying.  
  
"I...I...Sorry." Roger managed, offering his hand to the distraught girl. "Let me help you!" Kneeling, he glanced over at the mystery woman and gaped in shock. Staring back at him was a self-assured woman with a sharply sloping nose, glittering eyes, and a distinctly familiar air.  
  
"Have I... Met you before?" Roger felt as if his heart would burst.  
  
"I don't think so... But you look...familiar."  
  
Roger smiled gently. "I'm Roger. I used to play at a few of the clubs around here? Maybe you've seen me?"  
  
The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "I just moved here from Los Angeles. I haven't had a chance to get out much." She motioned ruefully at the jumble of papers strewn about the floor. "I'd better get back. They'll be wondering what happened to me." She gathered the papers in a disjointed pile, and scooped them up. "It was nice meeting you, Roger. Maybe we'll see each other again. In fact, I'm sure we will." With that, she stood, and began to make her way through the bustling crowd, which seemed to have not noticed anything unusual.  
  
"Wait!" Roger struggled to his feet. "I don't even know your name!"  
  
She turned, then, and gave him a small smile. "Ada. My name is Ada." Then, she was gone.  
  
Slumping against the doorjamb, Roger smiled. "I think I'm in love. Wait till I tell Mark. He'll be so..." Then he remembered. "Mimi! God...Has it been five minutes already?" He chuckled at his own wit, even as he wracked his brain for a solution to the new predicament he had found himself in. *Two in one day, Roge. Nice. That's gotta be a record!* He sighed, for the fourth or fifth time since the ill-fated collision, and made his way down the steps to wait for Mark. 


End file.
